Wondering eye

A change in the air, imperceptible
at first, a kind of trembling, catches
in your throat, like singing —

a line from a carol, a whisper
of poetry, memory, angel’s wings — something
in the air, something catches
at your sleeve, you’re turning —

and snow is falling, with a kiss, a flutter
against your cheek, a gentle touch
cool and familiar, you’re looking —

up, your head thrown back, hands
open, to catch a few snowflakes, to welcome
the first sign of winter.